


Date Night

by Zippit



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Community: fma_fic_contest, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-31
Updated: 2011-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-23 07:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zippit/pseuds/Zippit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mustang gives Ed something he didn’t know he was missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Date Night

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://archiveofourown.org/users/catw00man/profile)[**Catw00man**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/catw00man) for the beta. All other errors are mine.
> 
> Set post manga/brotherhood
> 
> Written for prompt #129 - Exotic Food over at [fma_fic_contest](http://fma-fic-contest.livejournal.com).  
> 

The closest thing that comes to exotic food in their home is the Eastern spices Mustang likes to occasionally throw on their food. It’s not that they don’t like exotic food. They enjoy it when they can get it. It’s just such a hassle to make and after a long day being Fuhrer or a long day in the lab there’s not enough energy or time. So when Mustang tells him they’re going to the new restaurant on the western side of Central he’s a little suspicious. Why do they need to go there?

Mustang’s presence is only going to make the restaurant’s day even more hectic with his security detail, the stalkers, and the press wanting to “report” on the Fuhrer’s every move. That’s another reason why they don’t do anything outside of the Fuhrer’s residence too often. It’s not worth the headache of dealing with all the people. When Ed brought this up, he’d been looked at with an arched eyebrow and told he was complaining too much and that it was time he was paid attention to again.

Mustang’s paid him more than enough attention. The soreness of his body after some nights spoke to that or the mornings he woke from sleep with a sinful heat wrapped around his cock or the warm press of a body against his back. He enjoyed that attention very much. He doesn’t need whatever Mustang’s planning especially in front of a million people he doesn’t know. Somehow he still winds up here tonight dressed in his best suit with Mustang in full military regalia. The chaos that surrounds Mustang in public lives up to its expectations as cameras go off and hushed whispers drift around them. Sometimes the bastard just confuses him.

He doesn’t mind it for the food because honestly the menu looks delicious. The restaurant specializes in food from outside of Amestris and Ed doubts you could find half their dishes anywhere else. Mustang at least had the decency to get them a corner booth and after fifteen minutes his security detail whisked the reporters outside. They’ll be allowed back in to photograph when they leave but that’s it. Some grumbled of course but if Mustang hadn’t done something Ed was about to transmute a wall out of the floor.

Their first dish arrives. It’s a fish he hasn’t seen before steamed covered with lemon slices and green onions with strips of shitake mushrooms and a few spices. The smell makes Ed’s mouth water and he cuts a good sized piece from it to accompany each bite of rice. He looks across at Mustang with an arched eyebrow. “Do you want to tell me what this is about?”

Mustang serves himself a portion of fish and then some stir fried broccoli when it arrives then takes several bites before he wipes his mouth with a napkin. He folds his hands in front of him and regards Ed. “Do you remember the last time we went out?”

It’s going to be one of _those_ conversations where Mustang answers a question with a question. He scowls. “No, is that why you dragged me to this place?” They’ve never had the chance between dealing with the homunculi and Mustang’s climb to Fuhrer. Now that he is Fuhrer they still don’t have time with the never ending business of running a country.

Mustang reaches across the table and takes one of his hands, lacing their fingers together. There’s a moment where Mustang looks at the touch with wonder. Ed hasn’t needed the barrier of gloves for years now but he swears the bastard still misses his automail. It amuses him more than anything else especially since he still worships his automail leg. He’s teased him about getting an automail glove only to be vetoed. One day Ed thinks he’s going to get one just to surprise him with it. Mustang lifts Ed’s hand and kisses the back of it. “Is it too much to ask to have an evening out with the one I love? We’ve been out saving the world at the expense of us for far too long.” Mustang brings Ed’s hand up to his face and spreads it against his cheek. “I think it’s time we changed that.”

A flush sweeps over Ed’s face even as he strokes his thumb over Mustang’s lips. “You’re just as bad as Jean.” His stupid silly bastard didn’t have to go to these lengths but he can’t say he’d turn down the good food. Mustang smiles slowly.

“Does that mean you wouldn’t be against outings with him and Riza?” Ed stares at him then snatches his hand back to shovel food into his mouth, muttering about stupid bastards and their pretentious plans. Plans that would have said bastards sleeping on the couch. Mustang merely laughs and resumes eating his food. Ed has to concede it’s nice seeing the smile on his face and the light in his eyes over something so silly. But he’s still a bastard, his bastard.

It’s only after the next dish of chicken curry with potatoes and Mustang’s amused gaze on him that Ed finally admits this has been nice and they could do with more nights like these. He looks across the table and says, “Ok, but we’re not picking up the tab every time.”

Mustang’s smiles as he takes his hand again. “Of course not. We wouldn’t want dear Jean to think his relationships with high ranking people afford him special privileges.” Ed busts out laughing and he doesn’t care who’s watching. He tugs Mustang closer and brushes a kiss against his lips. He's never needed to be wined and dined, and he'll never say it to his face, but his bastard may just have a point.


End file.
